


Sleepless

by ready_to_kick_some_ass



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, No Mary, Panic Attacks, Post-Reichenbach, Sharing a Bed, Short One Shot, Sleepy Sherlock, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 17:54:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10470705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ready_to_kick_some_ass/pseuds/ready_to_kick_some_ass
Summary: Sleep had never been a friend of Sherlock Holmes.





	

**Author's Note:**

Sleep had never been a friend of Sherlock Holmes.  
  
Rather an archenemy, who had tormented him all his life.  
As a child, he was afraid of sleep, because too often the sheets were soaking wet in the morning. Shame and guilt were well known feelings for him back then.  
As a youth, he feared sleep because a new day awaited him. A new day full of the harassments of his classmates.  
As an adult, he fled before sleep, because demons heeded him and tormented him. And of course, the drugs caused sleep problems too.  
The nights in which Sherlock slept dreamlessly and woke up in the morning refreshed were rare.  
They became more frequent when John Watson stepped into his life.  
John was like a calm focus.   
But good things never stayed in his life for long. A lesson Sherlock had learned again and again in the past.  
The fall snatched him from John. Removed him from the peace which he had hoped to finally have found.  
The fall brought him far away.  
  
In the next two years, he slept worse than ever.  
On narrow beds in cheap, dirty hotel rooms.  
On the ground of an abandoned shed.  
Some nights under a bridge.  
He often stayed awake for three whole days. Wanted to take care of the next job as soon as possible.  
Sometimes, he was so exhausted that he was hallucinating. John, mostly.  
Sometimes he couldn’t stand it any longer. Sometimes, he just had to sleep. So he went to seomeone, who could sell him something which would help him sleep. He knew where to find those people, without risking being revealed.  
He then laid down on a hotel bed and slept for several hours. But only after locking the door and placing a trap for possible intruders.  
Even then, he didn’t feel safe. And his sleep was full of shadows that chased him. 

And then came Serbia.  
For the first time, someone used sleep as a weapon against him.  
For the first time, he was really prevented from sleeping.  
For days.  
Until he thought he was going crazy.  
At some point, he lost his sense of time.  
It was always bright. It was always noisy. There was no day and no night. Everything was always the same.  
When Mycroft came, Sherlock first considered him another hallucination. He had many hallucinations in this cellar in Serbia.  
But Mycroft was real.  
And he really got him out.  
Sherlock didn’t remember much of this.  
Only the pain, when strange hands lifted him on a stretcher and carried him out of the cellar. A starry sky above him. Cool air. Snowflakes melting on his face. And finally, the stab of a needle in his arm. Sleep. For the first time in two long years, he slept dreamlessly and deeply. For several hours.  
Until he came to in a private clinic and realized that he was back.  
That he could go back to John.  
_John._  
  
When he finally stood before John, he was punched him in his face, thrown on his back and called a bastard.  
But then John pulled him into his arms. Sherlock let it happen. The wounds on his back were throbbing with pain. He closed his eyes as John suddenly said, “You … my God, you’re bleeding. What happened?”  
_Too much_ , Sherlock thought, not resisting when John took off his shirt, muttering a broken, “Jesus”.

_Way too much._  
_I’m so tired, John._

  
*

  
John changed his bandages at Baker Street.  
He asked how it had happened.  
Sherlock told him about Serbia.  
“Jesus,” John said again behind him. “Jesus …”  
And then, John said in a trembling voice that he still needed time. Time to process it all. To terminate the contract of his new apartment. Time. A little time.  
“Okay,” Sherlock said. Although everything inside him shouted.

  
_Stay here, John.  
Stay._

  
*

  
Sherlock couldn’t fall asleep that evening.  
Neither could he the next night.  
He wasn’t really surprised.  
After all, insomnia was nothing new to him.  
New, however, was the heavy feeling in his chest, which began on the second day without sleep. Something took away the air, so he couldn’t breathe properly.  
He lay on his side in his bed, staring at the wall, panting.  
Something … was wrong.  
Panic slowly began to devour his thoughts.  
Suddenly, he felt as if he was in a dream.  
_No. No no no._  
Outside, a car drove by. Loud music, noisy …  
_Loud music. Serbia._  
Am I still there? I am …  
No.  
Sherlock bit his finger. Squeezed his eyes shut.  
_I am not there. This is real. I am …_  
_But are you sure?_ A voice lurking in his head asked. _Are you really sure?_  
Maybe this is just an illusion. Maybe you’ve really lost your mind …  
Sherlock jumped up and started pacing the room.  
He tried to breathe calmly.  
Pressed both hands against his head.  
Nothing helped. Nothing …  
The panic grew stronger. His chest ached. His hands trembled.  
He looked around.  
What … What should he do?  
His eyes fell on his cell phone on the night table.  
He swallowed.  
_John …_  
John always helped. John was …  
But John did not want to see him now. John had asked for time.  
He couldn’t …  
Sherlock whimpered desperately and took the phone.  
Because of the veil of panic, he dialed John’s number without really realizing it.  
John answered almost immediately.  
“Sherlock?”  
Sherlock pressed the cell phone against his ear and squeezed his eyes shut. Pain. So much pain. __  
Oh God …  
“Sherlock? Are you … Is everything all right? ”  
_Why did you call him? Do you want him to see how weak you are?_  
“Sherlock. Please say something!”  
Sherlock bit his lip and then stammered into the phone, “John. John … I can’t … I think … can you … Can you come here, John? I … please …”  
_Pathetic. So pathetic. Do you really think he will come now? Now, after seeing how pathetic you are?_  
Sherlock whimpered. And then John said on the other end, “Yes. Yes of course. I … I’ll be right there. God. I shouldn’t have left you alone … but this is, it’s difficult. Damn. Try to breathe slowly, yes? Everything will be fine.”  
_Everything will be fine …_  
Sherlock felt tears rising in his eyes.  
He wrapped his arms around himself and waited.

  
*

  
After a while, there was a quiet knock on his door.  
Sherlock flinched and looked up.  
John was standing in the doorway. _John._  
“Hey,” he said, frowning worriedly. “Are you allright?”  
Sherlock shook his head. He looked down, ashamed. “I … I’m scared … I paniced and I’m thinking … It’s stupid but I’m scared that …”  
“That you are still in Serbia?” Asked John and Sherlock looked at him in surprise. John smiled sadly. “I know a little about these things, you know? About feeling like … being caught in a dream or an hallucination.”  
He went to the bed and carefully sat next to Sherlock. “It feels like this isn’t real, right?”  
“Yes,” Sherlock whispered, swallowing hard. “That’s exactly how it feels.”  
John looked at him seriously. Then he slowly laid his hand on Sherlock’s trembling shoulder. “But it’s real. You see? I’m here. And you’re here. Everything is fine. I’ll stay here if you want. Ok?”  
Sherlock nodded hesitantly.  
John continued to look at him intently and worriedly. “And you need to sleep, Sherlock,” he said seriously. “Your wounds need rest. And your mind needs rest. You really look terrible.”  
“I know,” Sherlock said, running a trembling hand over his face restlessly. “I know … but I … I can’t. I need … I don’t know … ”  
“What do you need?” John asked, looking intently at him.  
Sherlock swallowed.  
He looked down at his trembling hands. Then he looked at John again. He took a deep breath.  
“You,” he whispered. “I need you.”  
*  
“Is this okay?”  
“I … yes.”  
“Relax, yeah?”  
”Ok.”  
They were in Sherlock’s bed. Together. At first, Sherlock was frightened by the proximity. But John had soothed him. And slowly, Sherlock had begun to relax. To breathe more calmly.  
John was warm.  
John smelled good.  
John was there. Was real.  
“Better?” John asked, smiling at him.  
“Yes,” Sherlock said, swallowing. He was so tired. But the panic still lurked in the background.  
John seemed to sense that.  
“Here,” he said, and put his arm gently around Sherlock. “Put your head … yes, exactly.”  
Sherlock held his breath briefly. He was now lying with his head on John’s chest. And … he could hear his heartbeat. Even feel it.  
“John,” he whispered in surprise.  
“Yes. It’s all right, yeah? Close your eyes. Sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”  
Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes.  
He listened to John’s steady heartbeat, and felt that he was slowly slipping in to the sweet embrace of sleep.  
And suddenly, for the first time in so long, he wasn’t afraid of it.  
John was there.  
John was safety and home.  
And before he finally fell asleep, he thought he heard John whisper, “Thank you for coming back to me, Sherlock. Thank you.”

Sleeping was good when John was with him. __  
This was the conclusion Sherlock came to in the next days.  
It was wonderful to wake up with John by his side. To listen to John’s steady breathing and to feel his warmth.  
He slowly began to like sleep. To get a better attitude towards it.  
He started to overcome his trauma. It took a lot of time, but he didn’t have to do it alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Corrected by [bakerstreet-irregular](http://bakerstreet-irregular.tumblr.com/).  
> Visit me on [Tumblr](http://currently-in-my-mind-palace.tumblr.com/) for more! :)


End file.
